


Earth Rushing Through my Veins

by Sena



Series: Hold This Rope [2]
Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: BDSM, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Figging, Humiliation, Kink Exploration, M/M, Requited Love, Roleplay, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sena/pseuds/Sena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon and Spencer talk about fantasies and play around with ginger root.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earth Rushing Through my Veins

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for dub-con acted out in a consensual way

"But, no," Brendon says. "Like, your _darkest_ fantasy. Spanking cannot be your darkest fantasy."

"You asked me what fantasy was guaranteed to get me off the quickest, and spanking totally does, so."

"Really?" Brendon asks. "You just...you don't have anything dirtier than that?"

"I used to imagine that it was my job," Spencer says, grinning. He steals a piece of pepperoni off Brendon's plate and pops it into his mouth. "In high school. I used to, um, I'd imagine that I was, like, Director of Discipline or something. God. It's so cheesy."

"No," Brendon says. "No, it's good so far."

"I'd imagine that all the guys that got in trouble, that they had a choice. They could either be suspended or put into detention or whatever, or they could be punished physically and then, okay. Don't fucking laugh."

Brendon says, "Dude, if the choice had been between detention and getting spanked by you when I was in high school, well. I never would have served a single detention."

"So they'd have to, like, pull their pants and underwear down and bend over a desk. There was this really elaborate carved wooden desk in the dean of students' office, and I imagined it took place in there. So they'd be bent over with their pants down and then I'd tell them they had to choose what they wanted me to spank them with. Like, the choices were my hand, a belt, a riding crop, or a hairbrush, but when I was. Like, even if they chose the belt or whatever, I always imagined finishing it up with my bare hand."

Brendon says, "Did it make them hard? In your fantasies, did you imagine that it turned them on?"

Spencer nods and says, "Always."

"You really get off on that, don't you? The other person liking the way you hurt them."

Spencer's answer is a breathy, "Fuck, yeah."

"What if they didn't? What if you, like, forced somebody to do something they didn't want to do? Could that get you off?"

"Like what?"

"Like. I don't know. Me. What if you forced me to do something I didn't want to do, would that get you off?"

Spencer says, "I don't. I don't think I'd like that."

Brendon bites his lip and shrugs and says, "Okay." He looks disappointed.

Spencer says, "Is it something you honestly don't want, or is it something you're pretending you don't want because it's hotter that way? Like, is it actually going to turn you on or actually traumatize you?"

"Turn me on," says Brendon. "Maybe I wouldn't be turned on the whole time, because if you did it right, I'd be scared for a lot of it, but. You were talking about your hottest fantasy when you were in high school. And mine was, um. I'd fantasize about this guy, I don't know who, it was never actually a person I knew. Just a guy, a stranger, and he'd. I'd be at the bus stop and he'd offer me a ride home or whatever, or I'd be walking through a parking lot and he'd just grab me and, like, chloroform me, and I'd wake up in this dark room with no windows and just a bare mattress on the floor. And he'd just...do whatever he wanted with me. He'd whip me or make me suck him off or he'd put things in my ass and he didn't care if I cried or if I screamed or if I begged him to let me go, he'd just...use me. And whenever I got hard, he'd laugh at me and get me so close to coming, and then he'd stop. And he'd do it over and over again, get me so close so many times that I was begging him to let me come, and he'd tell me that I had to ask him to hurt me if I wanted to come, so I would. I'd beg him to, like, whip me or choke me or whatever, and he would, and he'd be calling me names and, well. Yeah. That one got me off a lot."

Spencer scratches gently at the back of Brendon's neck.

"You're freaked out," Brendon says.

"No. I mean, it's hot, the idea is hot. I'm just." Spencer pauses and thinks for a while. "I don't know if it would work in real life. Like, logistics and chloroform aside, I don't know if it would actually be, like, something we should do. Because I'm okay fucking with your body, but when it comes to fucking with your head. I don't know."

Brendon hunches his shoulders and says, "I just. I just thought I'd mention it."

Spencer runs his fingers through the hair at the nape of Brendon's neck and sighs when Brendon pulls away. He says, "There's parts of it we could definitely work in. Like, not letting you come until I say, making you beg me for it, that's. Yeah. I like that idea a lot."

"But the rest of it is too far out."

"The rest of it is awesome as a fantasy," Spencer says. "But I don't. I'm not saying never, I'm just saying that right now, I don't think I could play out an intense rape scene like that with you." He scoots up behind Brendon and wraps his arms around him, hand flat against Brendon's chest. "But we can talk it out, for sure. Like phone sex, only we're in the same room."

"You don't have to humor me," Brendon says.

"I'm not humoring you. I'm telling you what I am and am not comfortable with. I thought that was how we were doing this."

Brendon says, "If you don't want--"

"I want," Spencer snaps. "Fuck, Brendon. I want a lot of things, okay? And mostly I want you. I want to, like, share my whole stupid fucking life with you forever."

Brendon looks back at him, startled.

"How did you not know that?" Spencer asks. Then he takes a deep breath. "Oh, God," he says. "Oh, God, you're not. This isn't. For you this isn't. You don't want--"

Brendon says, "Of course I do, you idiot."

Spencer closes his eyes and he's so relieved he feels like he could cry. He feels Brendon press up against him and he wraps his arms around Brendon's shoulders and kisses his temple. Brendon turns his head and kisses him, slow and dirty, and Spencer's gearing up to kiss back when Brendon pulls away.

Brendon pulls away and goes to sit on the chair across from the couch. He sits on the very edge and bites his lower lip and looks down at his hands, then up at Spencer for a brief moment before looking back down. He says, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Smith. I really, really am. I didn't mean to do it. You can't tell my parents, you just _can't_."

Spencer smiles, then schools his face into a serious expression. "That's yet to be decided, Brendon," he says sternly.

"I know I have a choice," Brendon says softly, nervously. "I know that if I take the physical punishment that I won't be suspended. Just. Will it still go on my transcript?"

"No," Spencer says. "Only suspensions go on your transcript, not other punishments."

Brendon lets out a sigh. "Okay," he says, and he nods like he's deciding something. "That's...okay. I'll do that."

"You'll do what?" Spencer asks.

Brendon takes a deep breath, and the way he's fidgeting on the edge of the chair, the way his fingers are twisting together, his right foot tipped at an angle, only the side on the floor, it's amazing. Spencer forgets sometimes what a good actor he can be. He takes another deep breath and says, "I'll...I want to take the physical punishment. Instead of the suspension. You'll...you'll still let me do that, right? Even with what I did? I can still get out of the suspension, right?"

Spencer says, "Cheating is a very serious offense, Brendon."

"I know," Brendon says miserably. "I know, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Mr. Smith. I didn't mean to do it."

Spencer raises one eyebrow and waits.

Brendon takes a shaky breath. "It's just, there's so much to do, and my grades...if I don't keep my four-point average, I won't get a good scholarship, and my _parents_ , God. You don't even know what they're like. And it was just...I thought it would be harmless. I thought it wouldn't matter, just borrowing from a paper I found online. I didn't mean to plagiarize, it was just...it was just _borrowing_."

"Borrowing from another author without citing them as a reference, without quoting their work, is plagiarism, Brendon. And that's cheating. Your punishment will be very severe, whether you still elect to take the beating or not."

Brendon looks up sharply. He says, "Beating?" And he sounds terrified.

"The typical punishment for plagiarism is ten strikes of the cane," Spencer tells him.

Brendon whispers, "Oh, God, oh, God."

Spencer thinks of the ginger-coconut chicken he's planning to make for lunch the next day, and tries not to smile. He says, "There is another option. It's not standard, but it won't leave bloody welts like the cane would. You'll still get a painful spanking, but no actual damage will be done."

Brendon says, "Please, Mr. Smith, please, I can't...I can't take the cane. I can't have this go on my transcripts but I don't think I can handle the cane, please, anything else, anything--"

"Come with me," Spencer says, standing.

Brendon pops to his feet and watches Spencer with wide eyes.

"Into the kitchen," Spencer tells him. "Pull your pants down and bend over the counter, elbows and palms flat on the granite."

"My...my pants?" Brendon asks him.

Spencer says, "Now."

Brendon takes a shuddering breath and looks close to tears. If his cock wasn’t so hard, Spencer might actually believe he wasn't into it. He fumbles with his belt and the fly of his jeans, pushes them down to his knees and turns, bending over the counter.

"Your underwear, too," Spencer tells him.

Brendon says, "Mr. Smith?"

"Bare bottom spankings are the norm, Brendon. You'd know that if you'd ever read your student handbook."

Brendon takes another deep breath and pushes his underwear down to mid-thigh.

Spencer hesitates, then moves forward and pushes Brendon's underwear and jeans all the way down to his ankles. His t-shirt is short enough to expose his ass, but Spencer pushes it further up his back, anyway. He says, "Now stay there. Don't move and don't speak."

Brendon nods and takes in another shaky breath.

The fresh ginger Spencer had bought earlier at the store is in a small tin on the counter. Spencer takes it out, then takes his time rummaging through the utensil drawer, even though the peeler and the small paring knife he wants are right on top.

He walks over to the cutting board and looks at the ginger for a moment, turning it first one way, then another before deciding where to cut. He cuts a long slice, at least six inches long, including one of the curved fingers. Brendon can't see what he's doing, but Spencer wonders if he can smell it. The scent of ginger is delicate and sweet.

They've talked about figging before. Spencer hadn't even heard of it before Brendon had put it down on his checklist as something he really wanted to try. They haven't planned this out the way they're supposed to, but they never really plan things out. Spencer suspects it will probably blow up in their faces eventually, but they've always played well off one another and talking scenes out makes Brendon skittish and tense.

After cutting the piece he wants, Spencer puts the rest of the ginger in a plastic baggie and tucks it away in the fridge. He hums softly to himself as he takes the long, thick piece of ginger to the sink and starts to peel the skin away. He runs cold water over it as he peels, hums and grins to himself in anticipation. He peels slowly, washing the brown skin down the disposal, smoothing out any bumps or knots.

Brendon makes a soft sound. He doesn't speak, but he hums nervously, high in his throat. He doesn't have much patience, and Spencer knows how much the anticipation has to be killing him.

After the ginger is peeled and smooth, Spencer takes his time rounding off the tip, then he carves a small depression in a circle all the way around the ginger about five inches down. He washes it off it cool water and keeps it wet, grinning as he turns to see Brendon still bent over the counter, right leg bouncing anxiously.

Spencer steps up behind him and presses the fingers of his left hand to Brendon's ass. Brendon's head jerks up and he gasps, "Mr. Smith?" in a strangled voice.

"No talking," Spencer says firmly. "This is the other option I was telling you about. I'm going to put this inside you, all right?"

"What is it?" Brendon asks.

"It's a piece of ginger root I carved to fit inside you. I'm going to slide it in now." He parts Brendon's cheeks and presses the rounded tip against Brendon's hole. "Just relax. I can't use lubricant since that would defeat the purpose, but I'll put it in slowly, okay?"

"Do you have to?" Brendon asks, and he honestly sounds like he's about to cry. "Mr. Smith, I never. Nobody's ever. You have to put it...put it _there_?"

"Yes," Spencer says calmly. He presses the wet ginger further inside, slides it in slowly, pulling back a little bit when he feels resistance, then pressing it further in. It takes nearly a full minute until it's fully inside, until Brendon's rim closes around the depression he'd carved.

"You're not a bad kid, Brendon," Spencer tells him, rubbing his back. "And I know you've never been punished like this before, so you don't know the rules. But you aren't to talk unless I tell you to or ask you a direct question. If you talk when you're not allowed, the punishment will be worse. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Smith," Brendon whispers. "I'm sorry, Mr. Smith."

"Now stay where you are. Don't move, and don't speak."

Brendon nods and drops his head down between his arms.

Spencer goes back to the sink, washes his hands thoroughly and wipes down any stray drops of water that had landed on the counter. From behind him, Brendon moans softly.

Spencer turns and leans against the counter, watches and waits. Brendon shifts his weight from foot to foot, lifts up his head, then drops his again. He rolls his hips. He gasps and presses his cheek to his shoulder.

"Are you starting to feel it?" Spencer asks.

"Yes," Brendon whispers. "It burns, Mr. Smith. It hurts."

"I know. That's why I put it inside you." He steps forward and slides his hands over Brendon's ass, touches the rough, unpeeled end of ginger emerging from Brendon's hole. "Is this really the first thing you've ever had in your ass, Brendon?"

"Yes," Brendon whispers.

"Are you sure? Because it went in pretty easy. Do you let the other boys fuck you?"

"No! No, I wouldn't ever. I swear to you, Mr. Smith, I wouldn't ever do that."

Spencer hums, unconvinced, and slides his hand over the curve of Brendon's ass. "I want you to clench down, now, as tight as you can around the ginger."

Brendon gasps, suddenly. He says, "Oh, Mr. Smith, that makes it worse."

Spencer slaps his ass hard. "I told you not to talk."

Brendon whimpers and drops his head down and doesn't speak.

"Now, I want you to clench again. You're going to hold it as tight as you can for a full minute, do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Smith," Brendon whispers.

"Starting..." Spencer looks over at the clock on the microwave and waits for the numbers to change. "Now."

Brendon whimpers, but he doesn't speak. Spencer rubs the small of Brendon's back with his left hand and watches the clock. He listens to Brendon whimper some more, waits until the minutes is up, and says, "Okay, you can relax, now. Is it more intense?"

"It hurts so much," Brendon says, and Spencer thinks maybe he's not kidding because his hips are rolling the way they do when the pain is really good.

"I'm going to start your punishment, now. You can talk during it. You can say anything you want, but you're not to stand up and you're not to try to get away. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Smith," Brendon says. "Aren't you going to take this out of me, first?"

"No," Spencer tells him. "It was either this or the cane, and you chose this." He turns so he's got a good angle and starts to spank. He doesn't bother with light, warm-up slaps since this is supposed to be a punishment. He just starts slapping Brendon's ass hard, leaving white handprints that quickly turn pink. He slaps out of rhythm so Brendon can't anticipate the blows, varies them between each cheek and the backs of Brendon's thighs.

"Ow, ow, ow, Mr. Smith," Brendon moans. "It hurts, you're hurting me."

Spencer feels the endorphins start to rush through him, sighs and relaxes as he continues to spank Brendon hard and fast. He's smiling softly and completely focused, the world narrowing down to nothing except the feel of Brendon's skin sharp against his palm.

His hand starts to sting and he pauses for a moment, toys with the end of the ginger root and twists it back and forth.

Brendon groans, a real groan, and presses back against him.

"Your cock is so hard right now, Brendon," Spencer says, sliding his fingers over the dark red marks on Brendon's ass. "Why is it so hard?"

"It's not," Brendon cries.

"Don't lie to me. I can see how turned on you are. This is supposed to be a punishment, not a reward. Are you a sick little boy who enjoys punishment?"

"No," Brendon moans. "No, Mr. Smith, I'm not, I swear. I'm not sick or dirty, I swear I'm not."

"I think I'm going to have to work harder to make you understand that this isn't something you're supposed to enjoy," Spencer tells him, and he reaches for the wooden spoon lying on the counter near the stove.

Brendon cries out as Spencer starts to hit him with it, then moans and shudders and drops his head. After a few minutes, his shoulders tremble and Spencer realizes that he's crying. His cock is still rock hard.

"You really do like this, don't you?" Spencer asks, feeling how hot Brendon's tender, red skin is. "You love having something shoved up your ass. You love the way I'm hurting you."

"No," Brendon whispers. He shakes his head, and his tears are obvious in his voice. "No, no, I’m not like that, Mr. Smith. I'm not. I don't like this. It hurts."

Spencer smiles and twists the ginger. Brendon moans softly and his hips roll.

"It hurts _and_ you like it. Dirty boy."

Brendon moans and he's crying and when Spencer pulls the ginger out a little bit, he presses back against it like he wants more.

"Yeah," Spencer whispers, stilling Brendon with a hand on his back. "Do you want me to fuck you with this, Brendon?"

Brendon whimpers.

"If you want it, you're going to have to tell me. Otherwise I'll just take it out. Do you want me to take it out?"

"No." Brendon sounds helpless. "No, Mr. Smith, please. Please don't stop."

Spencer hums contentedly and slides the ginger out slowly, then just as slowly back in. "You are a dirty little boy, aren't you?"

"Yes," Brendon gasps. "Yes, Mr. Smith, God, yes I'm so fucking dirty. I'm so fucking sick. I want...God, please. Do it harder, I need it harder."

Spencer slides the ginger back in quickly, then pulls it out slowly again. He says, "Tell me what a dirty little slut you are, Brendon."

"I'm so dirty," Brendon gasps. "Oh, God, that feels so good. The hurt feels so good. I want, fuck. I want you to fuck me. I want your cock in me. I want. I lied to you before. I lied when I said I'd never had anything up my ass before. I touch myself even though I know it's wrong. I touch my dick and my ass and I think about, God, I think about guys fucking me."

"Do you finger yourself?" Spencer asks. He's tempted to fuck Brendon hard with the ginger, but he manages to restrain himself, to keep the slide slow and controlled. He likes making Brendon hurt, but mostly he's just turned on. His cock is painfully hard in his jeans.

"Yes," Brendon says. "Sometimes. Fuck, Mr. Smith, sometimes I even do it at school. I look at you in class, when you're teaching, I watch you and I try to pay attention, I know I should, but I think about you fucking me and I get so turned on and I have to touch myself in the bathroom, slick my finger up with spit and shove it up my ass and touch myself and think about you fucking me."

"Such a dirty little boy," Spencer groans. He says, "On your knees, Brendon. Now."

Brendon pulls back and drops to his knees and his mouth is open and ready for Spencer's cock even before Spencer's got his fly open. He shoves his cock into Brendon's mouth and grips his hair tight and fucks his face. He thinks about how Brendon's hole must be burning, how much it must hurt for Brendon to be as wild as he is. He looks down at the tears on Brendon's cheeks and the way he's pliant and not resisting, just taking it as Spencer fucks his throat, and he groans and shudders and comes hard.

Brendon chokes when Spencer finally pulls back, coughs and come drips down his chin.

"You look so fucking filthy," Spencer whispers, dropping to his knees in front of Brendon. "Look at you, such a filthy, dirty, sick little boy."

Brendon says, "Yes," says, "please, Mr. Smith. Please, I need to come. Please let me come."

"Jerk yourself off," Spencer tells him. "Touch yourself the way you do when you're alone. Show me how dirty you are."

Brendon grips his cock and groans with relief, tips his head forward and rests his forehead on Spencer's shoulder. He moans steadily, desperately until he comes, crying out and sinking back onto his heels.

Spencer strokes his hair, kisses Brendon's tearstained cheeks, his closed eyes, his mouth. He says, "Fuck, baby, so good."

Brendon makes a pained noise in the back of his throat and kisses back.

"Can you stand?" Spencer asks him.

Brendon shakes his head.

"On your belly, then. Can you do that?"

Brendon nods and leans forward, uses his hands to lower himself to the floor.

Spencer slides his hand down Brendon's back, takes a hold of the ginger and slowly eases it out, then tosses it into the trash. He rubs Brendon's bare back and his ass and the backs of his thighs. "Come on," he says. "Up."

Brendon's slow and shaky as he gets to his feet. He's clumsy as he tries to step out of his jeans. Spencer helps him free his feet, then stands and slides an arm around Brendon's waist for support.

"Just to the couch," Spencer tells him.

Brendon nods and even though he can walk on his own, Spencer still holds on to him.

"Did I do okay?" Brendon asks softly as they curl up together beneath the blanket they usually have draped over one of the arms.

"You were so good," Spencer tells him. "You're such a good boy, B."

Brendon smiles and curls up in Spencer's lap, wraps his arms around Spencer's waist and lets Spencer hold him close. He's a little shaky, but he's smiling and his eyes are focused and bright.

They kiss gently, almost chastely. They touch each other, and Spencer lets Brendon take their remaining clothes off so they can be skin to skin.

"Does it still burn?" Spencer asks, closing his eyes and kissing Brendon's temple.

"No. It stopped almost right away. My ass hurts, though. The spoon, fuck, that was intense."

"Bad?"

Brendon makes a pleased sound and shakes his head. "Good. Hurt so fucking much. Fuck. We need one of those for our toy box." He lets out a soft, sudden laugh as all the tension goes out of him and he bites at Spencer's jaw. "The school thing was hot, hotter than I expected. Can we do that some more? Like, later tonight, when we're ready to go again, can we play that some more? I liked it. I liked pretending I was a virgin."

Spencer runs his nails lightly over Brendon's shoulder blade and says, "We can do that."

Brendon yawns and sags against him. He says, "Maybe, like, we can pretend that I come over to your house and it's totally obvious that I want you to fuck me but I act like I don't. I act like I didn't like what happened before, but you know I did and you know what I want and you maybe. Not really force me, but like what you just did. Coax me into it. That was okay, right?"

Spencer rubs his back and says, "Yeah. That was good." Spencer's tired, too, lets himself sink back into the couch cushions. He thinks about moving to the bed, but he's too comfortable and warm and fuzzy with afterglow to really care about how stiff they're going to be if they fall asleep on the couch.

He says, "Brendon, you know that I don't. The fucking with your head shit, you know I don't really think that, right?"

Brendon nods and sighs contentedly. He bites gently at Spencer's jaw and his fingers tickle a little as he runs them up Spencer's spine.

Brendon says, "Spence?"

"Uh huh?"

"I didn't say it, before, and I know you know, but I want. I want to share my whole stupid fucking life with you, too."

Spencer nuzzles his face into Brendon's hair and smiles.


End file.
